


it must have been the wind

by themetgayla



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21617317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetgayla/pseuds/themetgayla
Summary: Jake is lying in bed when he hears it, the sound of glass shattering on the floor of the apartment above his. His eyes snap open immediately - not that he’d been sleeping - and he pushes himself up onto his elbows.  Scrunching his eyes closed to heighten his hearing, he tilts his head, straining to hear what’s going on.Silence.He shrugs, and passes it off as his imagination. He’s just settling back down, ready to fall into what he hopes will be a peaceful sleep, when a sob echoes through the ceiling. It’s not his imagination, he knows it isn’t.inspired heavily by alec benjamin’s ‘it must have been the wind’.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	it must have been the wind

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i went to see alec benjamin on wednesday, and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about writing this fic since then, so i wrote it. it’s only short, but i hope you enjoy it :)

Jake is lying in bed when he hears it, the sound of glass shattering on the floor of the apartment above his. His eyes snap open immediately - not that he’d been sleeping - and he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Scrunching his eyes closed to heighten his hearing, he tilts his head, straining to hear what’s going on.

Silence.

He shrugs, and passes it off as his imagination. He’s just settling back down, ready to fall into what he hopes will be a peaceful sleep, when a sob echoes through the ceiling. It’s not his imagination, he knows it isn’t.

He could lie back down, shut his eyes and pretend he hadn’t heard a thing, but it’s not in his nature; he’s a cop, for goodness sake, he’ll be a terrible person if he doesn’t at least check things are okay.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Jake pulls on a hoodie and his slippers, grabbing his gun just in case. He takes the elevator to the second floor and walks down the hall, trying to work out which apartment is above his. Once he reaches number 248 - he’s in 148, so it would make sense, right? - he knocks softly and takes a step back, suddenly wondering if he’s making a huge mistake.

Should he really be sticking his nose into other people’s business? Probably not. But if something bad _has_ happened, like he suspects, he’ll never forgive himself. Before Jake can dwell for any longer, the door opens a crack, and a young woman pokes half her head around.

“Um, can I help you?” Her voice is scratchy and raw, as though she’s been crying.

Jake’s stomach immediately flips; something is definitely not right. He can sense it. But he has to stay cool and pretend he hasn’t got a gun in his pocket ready to whip out if something goes wrong. That’ll really scare her off. “Hi, I heard glass breaking and then crying, is everything okay?”

The door opens a fraction more, revealing blotchy skin and bloodshot eyes. The woman has a sweater pulled up to her chin, and her shoulders are drawn together. She looks impossibly small, and reminds Jake too much of her mother when he was little. It’s not the best indication of what’s happened.

Jake doesn’t dwell on how beautiful the woman actually is, because now is absolutely not the time for that. (But he files it away for later consideration.)

The woman looks taken aback at his question, dark eyes widening as she instinctively shields herself further behind the door. “I think your ears are playing tricks on you,” she says with a forced laugh. Jake isn’t buying it. “Everything is fine, but thank you for caring. I wish I could enlighten you on the noise, but I didn’t hear anything. It must have been the wind.” She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Anyway, I have to go.”

And before Jake has a chance to reply, the door is closed in his face. He pretends not to hear a man’s voice, roughly demanding who was at the door, followed by the distinctive sound of a palm meeting flesh, as he turns on his heel and retreats back down the hall.

He doesn’t get far though, because his conscience nags him with every step he takes. He doesn’t want to intrude, since he has little to no facts on the situation, but he can’t shake the feeling that if he doesn’t turn back, if he doesn’t do _something_ , then whatever happens to that woman will be his fault.

Jake can’t bear the thought of leaving her. He’s seen first hand what domestic abuse does to people, and he doesn’t want to think about the state of his mum after Roger left for the very last time. No, he has to go back.

This time when he knocks, a man yanks open the door. He has the same fire Jake has seen countless times in his dad’s eyes when he was little, and an overwhelming nausea washes over him. “What do you want?”

“I heard crying,” Jake starts, swallowing thickly. He shouldn’t feel threatened by this man - he’s a detective in the NYPD - but he’s reminded vividly of his dad and the memories are not ones he takes pleasure in remembering. “Is everything okay?”

The man narrows his eyes, brows scrunched together, glaring. “Everything is fine.” He slams the door in Jake’s face. So much for not leaving the woman.

Back in his apartment, Jake does the next best thing he can think of. He switches on his speaker and moments later, Billy Joel’s _Lean on Me_ comes filtering out into the silence. It’s loud enough to be heard by the woman above him, he’s sure about that. He hopes that once she hears the lyrics, she’ll know that she’ll be okay. It’s a wild shot in the dark, but it’s the best he’s got.

He’ll try again tomorrow.

* * *

It’s 6PM when Jake knocks; he’d come home early just to try and catch the woman alone, but it had been hard to judge what time was appropriate. He counts one, two, three beats before the door opens, revealing the woman, this time looking more put-together than the previous night.

Jake takes note of the thick layer of concealer covering her left cheek.

“It’s you again,” she says in lieu of a greeting. Her voice is hesitant, wavering, as though she’s debating whether to close the door in his face or hear him out. She says nothing after that though, so Jake assumes he’s being given a chance to speak.

“Hi, yes, it’s me. My name’s Jake. I know we don’t know each other or anything, but I just wanted to let you know that you’re always welcome at my apartment. You can stay for an hour, or however long you want to, if you ever need a friend. We can talk about, y’know, the noises I heard last night, when you’re ready. But till then, we can agree on it just being the wind, yeah?” Jake stares at her with bright, concerned eyes, watching as the woman’s expression melts.

She flashes a shy smile. “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought!


End file.
